


heaven and hell, i love you both (suffocate my lungs with the love i found)

by holy_smokes



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Fluff, Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, Good Brother Luther Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Number Five is mean, Panic Attacks, Past Drug Addiction, Protective Date Katz, Recovery, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Romance, Sober Klaus Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 07:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holy_smokes/pseuds/holy_smokes
Summary: Klaus is wildly in love with Dave, living their best lives after both returning from Vietnam to the modern world. The Apocalypse is averted and they're free to live in love. Klaus drags his boyfriend to an Academy bonding evening but his happiness splinters into a thousand pieces after Five's careless words - but perhaps, just perhaps, there's hope for the hopeless.





	heaven and hell, i love you both (suffocate my lungs with the love i found)

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted some fluffy Klave, Klaus working on his recovery and some good old Hargreeves family dramz. Leave me some love and feedback if you enjoyed 'cause my dumb ass loves that kinda shizz. Peace and love!
> 
> Oh, and  
> -Dave survived  
> -Apocalypse never happened  
> -Grace is a-ok  
> -Allison can speak
> 
> <3

 

**  


Their hidden spot, tucked away at the top of the city, a good hour’s drive away, is everything Klaus could have hoped for. Dave’s Mustang takes them there, driving the city roads then the wide, empty country roads fast, radio on loud. Klaus gets to pick what they listen to but it’s always the same thing - a cassette tape Dave made him on their first Valentine’s together. Frankie Valli, The Four Tops and Frank Sinatra are musicians Klaus professes to adore these days. Pulling into the highest spot, they always find a strip of land to park the car upon before tumbling out and down the hill somewhat, the eye-line of the city in reach.

The grassy hill seems to be never ending until you spy a running creek below it and scatterings of flowers, miles of green stretching out all around them.

The best part is it’s deserted, utterly _deserted_ , apart from the two of them.

Dave’s learning but it’s taking time, lingering attitudes of the sixties making him flinch whenever Klaus holds his hand on a busy city street or plants a kiss on his lips in the middle of a drugstore. He’s wary and unsure, waiting for the harsh hand of a cop, unable to shake the fear of being handcuffed for stroking his thumb along the sharp line of his little love’s cheekbone.

That’s why Klaus suggested the drive out. They don’t want to be and they don’t have to be locked in their apartment, love confined behind a closed door. The heroes of Stonewall made sure of that. The quiet field is without prying eyes. Their hands will lock together as Klaus dances down the hill until Dave grabs him, grinning, as they settle under a large oak tree, its leaves sheltering them from the sweltering sun. Klaus claims his true home, head nestled into the crook of Dave’s neck, half on his lover’s chest as Dave wraps him up in strong, safe arms.

Klaus has always been one for chatter. If it isn’t drugs, which it _isn’t_ anymore, it’s been talk: an endless stream of noise and nonsense falling from his lips to prevent one second of silence. Silence is when _they_ begin to drift in, those strangers, with their mangled eyes and their unhinged jaws. Yet here, curled atop of someone as steady as the tree they lie underneath, silence is golden. Klaus understands that phrase now. He doesn’t need the noise of his own mouth when he can hear Dave’s heartbeat, grounding him to this earth. His eyes flutter open and shut, sunshine streaming through the gaps of the leaves, the feeling of the light breeze on his cheek and Dave’s fingertips ghosting across his lover's face, the consistency of his hand unapologetically gripping Klaus’ waist.

Klaus wears skirts even more than he used to, in the days before Vietnam. Dave’s reaction was both delightful and terrifying the first day after Klaus zapped them back to modern times; the day he saw his boyfriend potter through to the kitchen in a yellow knee-length floaty skirt partnered with a sparkly rainbow crop-top.

“You’re wearing a skirt?” Dave had asked, as confused as Luther in a sex shop. Klaus had tugged on it self-consciously, his love immediately seeing where Klaus’ brain went to - _he hates it, he thinks it’s ugly_ \- and jumping quickly to rubbish those voices in Klaus’s head, rushing to his side to pepper him with kisses, tell him it’s _gorgeous_.

“Just never thought I’d see a man in a skirt, that’s all. You look amazing. I love it, baby,” Dave had smiled and Klaus saw his mistake - his man wasn’t disgusted by him, he was _amazed_ by him.

“I’m not a man, I’m an experience,” Klaus had winked, but he was shy about it, extroverted mask blasted to smithereens around someone so genuine, so honest.

Dave couldn’t argue with that.

The Academy, by some miracle, stopped the Apocalypse. Vanya’s shot missed, the moon still hangs in the sky, and the Hargreeves family are in the baby steps of becoming a real family. It was hardly the calmest welcome to current times for Dave, bewildered as he lagged behind the superhero siblings, praying they’d survive this. Once the moon didn’t split, Klaus took his inheritance and ran like the wind; paid upfront for a downtown apartment, filled it with things that made Dave laugh as he purchased them from a gigantic, bright pink velvet sofa to a king size bed which just about fits their bedroom. He’s not sorry about it. This is his first home; a home, with stained coffee cups, toothpaste spat into the bathroom sink, knives left on chopping boards with remnants of pepper and cumin still resting on the blade.

A house, a life, love, mistakes: a _home._

There were teething problems. Dave’s ego, bruised, disliked being a kept man; _that’s not what men do,_ yet without a bank account (never mind not a single cent to his name) and Klaus’ millions, there was no much Klaus could do to repair it. _It’s just money, baby,_ he had shrugged, unsympathetic. It’s not like he couldn’t see how much it frustrated Dave that he _was_ frustrated, fighting this need to confine them into neat little roles. There were constant apologies on both sides until Klaus broke a little, Dave anxious on his heels, finding his eccentric boy in the middle of the sixth block away. Klaus was easy to spot; the tall, lithe man in bright yellow high heels, handing wads of cash to eager strangers.

“Klaus!” Dave had yelled, angry - _scared -_ batting away the hungry hands of the vultures as he zoomed in on his boy, “what the hell?”

Klaus had just blinked back sadly, mercifully sober.

“I don’t want it,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears, “I don’t want it if it means you don’t love me anymore.”

New York wasn’t happy about the pretty man with the stacks of money in his hands being scooped up and escorted away by a burly ex-soldier, but what was that to Dave? Ego aside, communication prioritized, and an agreement of somewhat was brokered. The Hargreeves inheritance will fund them but Dave will work regardless, a happy medium that allowed them both some peace.

Klaus revels in this life. The trips to their very own picnic park, their lazy days under the oak tree, are the highlights of his week. Dave’s apprenticeship at a local garage means he’s never too far away and whilst therapy is teaching Klaus healthy habits, he likes wandering down to find his man, watch him at work. Klaus has never had a calling apart from the one that Reginald tried to hammer into him.

“Don’t you want to get a job, Klaus?” Diego had bitched one day as they met for _Bro Brunch_ , the name a joke which hasn't quite faded.

“I have a job,” Klaus replied airily, sipping the straw of his iced coffee, “I work on _myself_. It’s extremely rewarding.”

Life is early mornings; waking up to Dave’s alarm, it’s buying nice coffee, sneakily smoking even though he’s promised to quit, it’s therapy, it’s realizing the signs of an impending panic attack, it’s that feeling he gets when Allison calls just because, it’s looking at his bank account and feeling calm, it’s a cruel ghost which gets chased away by Dave bringing him back to reality, it’s Diego criticizing his newest, most fabulous pair of shoes, it’s the taste of his boyfriend’s dick, it’s the daydream of what their wedding will be like, it’s the arguments about whose turn it is to pick up milk and it’s the push and pull of real, actual _life_ , in this moment.

Klaus has always been forced into the past or the future, abridge two worlds, never fully present. Life has been with the dead or the drugged and you’re not living, not caught between those two blurred universes.

That doesn’t mean the drugs aren’t missed terribly. You can’t get clean without a focus and what junkie has a focus, except this junkie, desperate to protect what he’s wanted since he was a young boy and now a kind, safe, beautiful love encircles him and it’s terrifying, _wonderful_. Dave’s gentle in his constant reassurance.

So, as well as filling his world with a man who shattered the dark, empty cage Klaus has been locked in for over a decade, he turns to his siblings, a mismatched matryoshka set of weirdos. Klaus is beginning to understand what it means to take sour, bitter lemons and make a sweet, delicious drink from them; maybe they’ll figure it out one of these days.

He slips into a comfortable budding relationship with Diego, their reunion after Father’s death natural and something he’d missed for a very long time, but it takes work with the others. That’s why when Luther invites Klaus - _plus one_ \- to a family dinner followed by movie night, Klaus accepts. He can’t think of what could possibly be better than in his and Dave’s love nest, curled up watching black and white films, munching yet again on delicious _bun cha_ with the steady presence of his lover’s hand on his back but he supposes he shouldn’t be hasty to dismiss them.  


_Nhai kĩ no lâu, cày sâu tốt lúa_  
"Chewing carefully [makes one] feel full longer, ploughing deep is good for the rice"  
  
_Careful execution brings better results than hasty actions_.

 

They haven’t forgotten Vietnam. Vietnam won’t allow it, soldiers from both sides often appearing in their bathroom mirror, making Klaus jump whenever he steps out of the shower before dramatically accusing them of being a pervert and drowning them out with some Ke$ha.

Today the hours pass as he strokes the beautiful fabrics in his wardrobe and tries to decide on what to wear. Daddy’s money also went on some fabulously expensive threads. He pulls at a tiny black dress, lace-up sides, something he likes to wear when he’s got Dave spread out on the bed and looking up at him in awe. He loves how he feels it in, loves how he looks, especially with dramatic makeup, _a little goth tease_ , Dave’s hungry eyes and hands making him feel wanted without feeling broken.

 _Not appropriate for a family evening in_ , sober brain tells him, until he finds a baby blue knee-length, simple and Grace-style elegant, pairing it with a white, sparkly crop top. He’s baked a New York crumble cake for the occasion, having to bat Dave’s hands away all afternoon before they drive down to the old fancy prison Reginald kept spick and span for all those years. Klaus will never fail to feel the tightening in his chest as he walks up those steps, remembering the child he once was, how he’d return home from missions on shaky, skinny legs, desperate for someone to rescue him. The amount of times he pictured a hero - his real Mother - standing in harm’s way, ripping her son away from the iron grip of his alien kidnapper, smothering him in cuddles.

Dave looks behind, reaches for a hand.

“Hey,” he says gently, “it’s ok, baby. He isn’t here.”

Klaus swallows, nodding. He’s right. His Father isn’t in there, but he’s always in _here_ , swimming around Klaus, a voice inside his head which reminds him how insignificant he is. Klaus is starting to find beauty in that. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy; he was just a speck of dust in the ocean, twirling around in the deep, dark waters as he hunted for heroin. Yet, not everything powerful is powerful at first and there’s strength in being an unknown threat.

He lets Dave lead, happy to have a stronger, braver body to hide behind as they wait to be greeted into the mansion.

It’s Luther who opens the gigantic door to the Academy, comical in the world’s largest suit complete with a pink bow tie. Klaus can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up, burying his face in Dave’s neck as he realizes it’s perhaps rather rude.

“Uh, Klaus, Dave,” Luther greets stiffly, offering a gloved hand. Dave takes it, shaking happily.

“Nice to see you again Luther,” he smiles, and he means it. Klaus stares at his jaw lovingly.

“Hi, darling!” Klaus turns his attentions to Luther, now used to his brother’s interesting choice of outfit, launching himself at One for an awkward hug, one hand keeping his precious cake held high.

“Did you bake this?” Luther asks Dave, Klaus stepping back from their embrace, offended.

“ _I_ did,” he tuts, before resuming his position as the smaller hand in Dave’s larger one, leading him through to their dining hall. He can’t say he misses it, not usually, but he’s knocked back on his heels as he takes in the lilac walls, new metal lights, rose gold cutlery adorning the table. The Academy room looks less like an University of Oxford common room and more Brooklyn warehouse, that ancient table and chairs set replaced with sleeker, cooler ones. He turns, looking for Luther’s eyes.

“You decorated?”

“ _We_ did,” Allison greets, stepping in from the separate entrance, radiant in a beautiful green dress that Klaus absolutely makes a note to steal soon.

“It looks real good, guys,” Dave offers. He’s always been comfortable with the family, easily accepted by the boys thanks to his military background and ability to keep a firm hand on Klaus’ attitude; well liked by the girls for thanks to his warmth and ability to keep a firm hand on Klaus’ health.

A flying knife passes them by, hurtling into a painting.

“Apart from that,” Diego offers gruffly, “stupid picture. I hate it.”

Klaus drinks in the sight of his always irritated brother. It’s a little bizarre looking at him in black skinnies and a white shirt rather than his usual BDSM get-up. Confused, he looks at the offensive art again, a large painting of a bowl of fruit.

“It’s a bowl of fruit,” he tells Diego.

“Exactly,” Diego replies with all sincerity, leaving Klaus none the wiser.

Tense silence is interrupted by Grace, stunning in one of her red, sparkly dresses, hands clasped together as she surveys the room.

“What fun we’ll have!” she informs them, gesturing to take their seats. Klaus appreciates the lack of table wine. These are always trying times, being here, something a good red would just take the edge off. Dave reaches under the table and squeezes his knee, Klaus clapping his hands over his partner’s grip, keeping him there.

 _I need you, please, don’t leave me_.

“Where’s that little asshole?” Diego questions, already reaching for some of the beautifully presented french bread, presumably laid out earlier by Mom to wet their appetites.

“Vanya?” Klaus asks, until a hand even smaller than his own is clamped on his shoulder.

“I think he means me,” Five informs him, “let’s hurry this up. I’ve got things to do.”

“Jerking off into dolls doesn’t count as something to do,” Diego continues, clearly determined to be annoying, grabbing a knife as the goading predictably makes their equally fearsome brother scowl, turning on Two.

“It’s like you’re begging for me to rumor you both,” Allison warns, not a woman you ignore. Speaking of women you don’t ignore, Seven appears at long last, walking over to her claim her place next to Allison. Klaus is terrifyingly mesmerized by her, mind blown by the power she carries in that impossibly tiny body of hers. He calms a little when Luther fiddles with a vinyl, the lilting voice of David Bowie carrying through as siblings eye each other, trying to telepathically send warnings to _play fucking nice_.

Klaus is thrown by Ben's appearance, giggling, perched on the edge of a table and trying to reach out and grab Luther’s bow tie.

“He looks insane,” Ben murmurs, ghostly hands going through the velvet material.

“ _You_ could stand for a little color,” Klaus retorts, muttering “ _Ben_ ” as explanation when all sets of eyes fall upon him. Dave took to the whole ghoulish side of him rather well. He grew up in faith, tales of demons, possession and the other worlds were commonplace so what’s a superhero ghoul-attracting boyfriend?

“Lemon and herb chicken,” Grace smiles, bringing in a tantalizing looking dish, neatly arranged slices of fruit alongside the crispy, tender bird. Klaus swears he can hear Dave’s stomach rumble; the amount of times he jokes about Dave’s belly being a never-ending tunnel pit is a common topic in their household of two. Klaus has tried to cook ever since Dave made the innocent and vast mistake of telling him about his ex-fiancee, a blonde teacher named Connie, who made the most mouth-watering Julia Childs inspired beef bourguignon for Dave and his family after prayer.

Klaus had almost burnt the apartment down with his own attempts, found tearful and chain-smoking in the kitchen corner as Dave kissed his forehead and tried not to laugh, promising he loved Klaus’s proudly served microwavable noodles.

Luther is first to cut into the meat, gently laying it down on his plate.

“I’m a vegan,” Five snaps as One tries to pass it on, “I refuse to eat corpses.”

“Since when?” Diego scoffs, grabbing the chicken himself, “isn’t that how you survived the Apocalypse?”

“I shall not discuss such complex matters with a man who thinks going to Burger King rather than McDonalds is making a sophisticated dining choice,” Five snipes, teleporting the carrots to himself instead, not even soothed by Vanya’s warning eyes.

“Burger King _is_ more sophisticated,” Diego mutters under his breath, only Klaus picking it up as the other siblings fall into questioning Five’s overnight dietary change.

“I don’t like either,” Klaus admits.

“That’s because you barely eat,” Dave chimes in, “he eats ramen noodles and Reese’s Pieces. That’s it.”

“No surprise,” Diego replies, animated and mouth full of potato, “too skinny, isn’t he?”

Diego shoves a hand on Klaus’s tummy to emphasis his point.

“I like him just as he is,” Dave shrugs, Klaus feeling those butterflies start up again, fluttering and ticklish inside of him whenever his boyfriend says stuff like that. He isn’t used to it, not one bit, almost embarrassed by the sincerity but it always fades out, leaving him thrumming and high in a different kind of way.

“Not for me,” his brother continues, eyeing up the mac and cheese dish, “I like curves, hips, ass. I like a big ass.”

“Wow,” Klaus deadpans, “ _please_ write romantic poetry, Diego, the literary world is begging you,” the butterflies exploding as Dave laughs loudly, grabbing his hand and kissing it. For someone who’s still adjusting to their love being legal it’s like their little moments with the Hargreeves clan gives Dave that boost of confidence to touch him and Klaus adores it.

Diego scowls but doesn’t answer. Klaus knows he’s safe with Two. They bickered as kids, like all siblings do, but he’s never been on the more harsh, violent end of Diego’s attentions and he suspects his brother sees him as the girlish sibling he wants to protect. That’s always been Diego’s weakness, a desperation to protect, to the point it’s gotten him into seriously sticky situations.

“This is so good, Mom,” an ever evolving Vanya compliments, attempting to find her feet in the family she always felt excluded from. Klaus admires her for it. He still wants to pull the plug half the time, never see them again, bar Diego. If it wasn’t for Dave and his kind encouragement that _it’s ok, sweetheart, they love you, they want to see you_ , he doesn’t know if he’d be sat here.

“Thank you, dear,” Grace smiles, “and we have a delicious cake to enjoy, children, so keep a little room. Our dear Klaus brought cake, isn’t that terribly sweet?”

Allison smiles at her softly, agreeing, but it’s Five’s reaction Klaus zooms in on, the grimace he makes as he angrily eats his carrots.

“Be grateful,” Luther mutters to their simultaneously youngest and eldest sibling, “Klaus baked it for us.”

Klaus feels exposed, a blush rising on his cheeks. He’d have sold a limb in the past to be the family focus, good or bad, but now he feels clumsy as all eyes turn on him.

“Klaus?” Five guffaws, sounding a lot like Reginald whenever his Father mocked him for being _frightened_ of the dead, “I wouldn’t eat a single thing that junkie hooker made.”

Dark silence cloaks the room before each sibling reaches for their weapon of choice. Luther grips the table so hard it’s beginning to snap, slowly but surely; Diego snatches the sharpest knife he can see, Vanya’s eyes begin to fade into white and Allison looks torn, still sworn on never using a rumor again.

“I think you need to apologize,” is what snaps everyone out of their attack mode, Dave’s calm but firm voice cutting through the air as he meets Five’s eyes. Five has no reason to fear Klaus’s boyfriend. The old man is unpredictable and lest they forget, a highly trained assassin with an ego that could squash them all like weak little bugs. Klaus feels like he’s at sea; far away, underwater, placing a hand on his lover’s knee to anchor himself before he falls off the edge and plunges into the rocks beneath the waves.

“Did you not know, Dave?” Five queries, like a shark eyeing up a gaping leg wound, “hasn’t Number Four informed you of his delinquency?”

Klaus is spinning. Even his palm dug into Dave’s knee starts to feel like a fake, not really his. He’s warm, face heating like a bubbling volcano and in his peripheral view the world starts to fade until not only does everything sound like white noise but it looks like it, too. It’s nothing, yet _everything_ ; he feels nothing, yet everything.

He doesn’t know he’s incapacitated on the Academy front steps until he does, until he’s gasping for air and clinging to exposed brick as if a crashing wave is pulling at his ankle and attempting to throw him out into the ocean.

“Baby, hey - Klaus - Klaus - ”

It sounds _so far away_ . If he’s still at sea, it’s the voice of his rescue mission, it’s some utter fool attempting to resuscitate him and he wants to laugh and say _don’t bother, sweetheart, it’s better this way_ but his lips won’t move the way he expects them to.

“Klaus?”

Dave’s hand wraps itself gently around his neck, steadying him, squeezing in time with what his heartbeat should be. It’s their ritual whenever this happens, Dave reminding him to _slow down, come back to me_ and he does, eyes closed, exaggerated intakes of breath followed by loud, blustering breaths out. This is what it feels like to swim back to shore when you’ve been stranded in the dark waters, this is seeing land, _safety_ , it’s coming home when you never thought you would.

“Let’s go home,” Dave murmurs, pressing a kiss into Klaus’s hairline, closer now as he holds his boy with careful hands.

Their attentions are interrupted by the creaky door being yanked open by a stressed Diego carrying a slightly broken cake on a plate, looking relieved to see the pair of them still here.

“He’s been like that for the past two weeks,” Klaus’s favorite brother tries to offer, “I woulda stabbed him, bro, if it wasn’t for _Vanya_ …”

“It’s ok,” Klaus smiles faintly, still allowing himself to be rocked soothingly, “he’s right about me, anyway.”

“No - ”

“He is,” he stops Dave, clasping a hand over his lover’s, “it’s ok.”

“Who you was isn’t who you are,” Dave replies, knocking the wind out of Klaus’s sails in a whole different way, like Mediterranean sunlight smacking him in the face and blindsiding him entirely.

“Wise,” Diego points at the ex-soldier before raising the cake high, “let’s finish this dumbass dinner at your place. Gay heaven!”

“Stop calling it that,” Klaus bitches, rising to his feet with Dave’s support, “why are you so excited about ‘ _gay heaven’_ , anyway?”

“That’s a no brainer,” his brother scoffs, already leading them to their car, “first, your place always smells so good and it’s clean, so _clean_. Second, you have those nice, healthy juices in your fridge and last but not least… I can watch Ru Paul in peace.”

Dave smirks at Klaus and the light hits him just right, eyes sparkling (Diego still chattering on in the background asking _do you think I can sign up to a LGBT+ househunting app, even as a straight dude? because, yo, I want to get home to coconut candles and that nice ass shower gel, you know?)_ and Klaus knows that one day he’s gonna marry him.  


**  


Diego doesn’t have a whole of decorum, charging in after Dave unlocks to claim his most beloved spot on their plush sofa, L-shaped and obnoxiously large. Klaus shares a meaningful look with his boyfriend as his brother plonks himself down on the very corner Klaus was bent over mere nights ago as Dave ate his ass greedily. He opens his mouth to taunt Two about it but changes his mind as he looks at Diego, childishly happy with cake in his hands and the TV on blast.

“Wh’t?” his brother asks with a mouthful of the cinnamon treat, “stop starin’ at me.”

There were times before tonight when Klaus would have blotted out Five’s harsh assessment of him with something sinister, something that would leave him strung and in pain and in the morning, full of regret. It hits him like a freight train that there’s been so many of those times. So many cruel men and opportunist women have taken from him. He’s died more times that he can count. Yet, here he is, by miracle and by bad luck of his powers, still breathing. He’s healthy enough to understand Five’s as subtle as a drag queen, intelligent in mathematics but woefully failing when it comes to human connection, and he's healthy enough to take a step back, look at the bigger picture.

This is his regeneration, his rise from the ashes, his claim to the label of survivor. There’s always going to be life beyond every moment Klaus lives, always something new and for the first time in his life, he can’t wait.  


**

 


End file.
